The Man Who Shared My Blanket on the Freezing Train Platform Fingered Me Through My Coat Until I Came Standing Up
The train was delayed two hours and the platform was freezing.
I was shaking when he stepped closer and offered half of his heavy wool blanket without a word. We stood shoulder to shoulder under it, breath fogging in the cold air. At first it was just shared warmth. Then his hand found my waist under the blanket. Then it slid lower.
I didn’t stop him.
His fingers slipped inside my coat, under my sweater, and straight into my jeans. I was already wet from the tension and the cold. Two thick fingers pushed inside me while his thumb pressed against my clit. I gripped the edge of the blanket and stared straight ahead like nothing was happening.
He fucked me with his fingers right there on the open platform — slow, deep strokes hidden under the thick fabric. Every time the wind picked up he curled them harder. The wet sound was soft but unmistakable. My knees started to tremble. He wrapped his other arm around my waist to keep me upright and kept going, rubbing my clit in tight circles while his fingers worked deeper.
“Come,” he murmured against my ear, voice low enough that only I could hear. “I’ve got you.”
I did.
My whole body locked up as the orgasm hit , silent, violent, thighs shaking while I clenched around his fingers. He held me through every pulse, still stroking me until I was soft and oversensitive. Then he slowly pulled his hand out, brought his shiny fingers to his mouth under the blanket, and tasted me.
The train finally pulled in a few minutes later.
He walked away without another word.
I rode the whole way home still dripping, the ghost of his fingers inside me.